


In Which Damian Builds a Gingerbread House and an Alliance is Formed

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Damian tries kid activities, Fluff, Gen, Gingerbread House Building, Late Night Antics, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Damian Wayne is on a mission. He's going to figure out exactly what's so great about building gingerbread houses, no matter what Tim thinks.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 24
Kudos: 397





	In Which Damian Builds a Gingerbread House and an Alliance is Formed

Damian was hard at work in the dimly lit kitchen. He’d left only the light illuminating the stove on in order to prevent suspicion. It was hard to see the fine details of his work, but he had worked in conditions far less optimal than this on projects even more fine. All his attention was on the gumdrop he was carving with a knife, slicing away a bit here and a bit there to help shape it the way he wanted. 

A dark nose, wet and sniffing, butted his arm making him nearly slice the wrong way. Damian turned his head to find Titus, curious, and raised on his hind legs to see what was going on. 

“Down.” Damian’s voice was quiet, but stern, “I have told you, that I would have allowed you to help, but as we have discussed, dogs do not have the thumbs needed for such precision work. Still, I will need your assistance to make sure there is no evidence by morning.” 

Damian wiggled his free thumb at Titus to emphasize his words. The animal huffed and dropped back to the floor where he looked up at him with wide, wanting eyes. Damian gave in, and scooped a handful of peanuts he’d been using for roof tiles into a palm before depositing them on the floor for Titus. 

“That is all for now.” he said, “The point is to create the gingerbread house first, then eat it, not the other way around.” 

He did not have his father's sweet tooth, but Damian was looking forward to all aspects associated with making a gingerbread house, including eating it. The kit he’d smuggled in was filled with enough gingerbread to create a structure, icing, and various types of candy. Unfortunately, little of it's contents were canine appropriate. To make up for that, Damian had collected a number of foods to help decorate so that Titus could safely partake of, knowing the dog would wish to accompany him on his quest. He refused to let him miss out because he could not find a gingerbread house kit that was both human and dog friendly. 

He turned back to his gumdrop, examining the thing. One more flick of his knife and he decided it was perfect in the shape of a tiny little security camera. He secured it to the base of the roof with some icing and nodded at his work. The security system was almost complete. He still had much decorating to do, but he was proud that his creation would be safe from any would be attackers. 

While Damian continued working, Titus finished off the peanuts and shuffled away to lap water from his bowl. The next few minutes passed quietly as Damian’s focus zeroed in closer on his creation. He finished the security system with a few extra cameras, and began on a fence to outline the house. 

The kitchen lights overhead flickered to life, making Damian flinch from the brightness. He dropped the Kit Kat he’d been holding with a clatter. He spun in his stool to figure out who’d entered the kitchen, and almost knocked the whole gingerbread house over with his elbow. The light was messing with his vision, and he had to blink spots away as he tried to look at the too bright kitchen, before knuckling his eyes in an attempt to get them to focus. 

Timothy stood just inside the kitchen, hand still on the light switch as he stared at Damian and the mess spread out on the island behind him. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“I could ask the same of you.” Damian retorted, his voice hot with irritation. 

His brother’s hand dropped from the switch and he shrugged, “I was thirsty.” 

“Ah.” Damian said.

Timothy wasn’t really looking at Damian. Instead his line of sight seemed to trace back, at the mess of gingerbread and candy behind him. The urge to throw his arms out or move to obscure his brother’s vision was strong, but Damian knew the damage had been done already, his secret was out and now he was going to have to deal with the ridicule of giving into something so childish as making a gingerbread house. 

Titus, tired of both boys standing around, stood from where he’d been laying by Damian’s stool and moved to Timothy to butt his leg with his head, and obvious request for attention. Absently, the boy reached down and scratched Titus behind an ear.

“So.” Timothy started, “Is this some kind of practice or?” 

Damian’s brow furrowed, and he shifted on his stool, “Practice?” 

“You know, for the build off?” 

It was now obvious Damian was missing something. Had he missed a message in the group text about some sort of building competition? One having to do with gingerbread? Or perhaps some other foodstuff? But no, he was sure he had not. Damian prided himself on keeping up with family conversations, no matter how inane they were, and he had not seen anything about gingerbread or building anything. Which meant this must be a trap. Damian was unsure why Timothy would try to lure him into one, especially when it was obvious what he was doing, but the boy seemed intent on messing with him anyway. 

He straightened and glared at his brother, “Stop spouting nonsense, Drake. It must be obvious to you what I’m doing.” 

Timothy sighed, hand going to shove bangs out of his face, “You know what? Let’s put a pin in this, I need coffee if I’m going to face off against a riled Damian.”

His brother moved further into the kitchen, Titus hot on his heels with curiosity. He started preparing coffee, scooping one, then after a moment spent turning to look at Damian, two helpings off coffee grounds into the machine.

“Riled?” Damian was, but he was not going to admit it, “I am not the one attempting to lure their sibling into an obvious trap.” 

The jab was ignored as Timothy continued with prep, getting two mugs down and pouring sugar and milk into both, one with far less sugar than the other. Soon the coffe pot was bubbling and hissing as it brewed, the smoky scent of coffee already permeating the air. Timothy turned, leaned against the counter, and leveled an inscrutable look at Damian. 

“Answer one question so I can understand what’s going on, and then you can continue going on about mysterious plots all you want.” 

Damian opened his mouth to refute the idea of ‘mysterious plots’ but Timothy held up a hand for him to be quiet. Damian snapped his jaw shut with an angry click and crossed his arms. 

“Why are you building a gingerbread house in the middle of the night with no one around? And don’t just assume I know, explain it like I’m the innocent party in all this, totally unaware of your intentions.” His tone seemed to indicate that he did indeed believe himself to be the innocent party, and Damian was beginning to wonder again if he’d jumped to conclusions. 

It was a simple question, with a simple answer. The problem was in the fact that Damian did not wish to admit why he was doing this under the cover of night. To anyone who knew him it should be obvious. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks as he considered how to answer, his stomach knotting because this was the worst outcome. Anyone but Timothy would have been better. 

“It is childish.” Damian said at last. 

Timothy sighed, “There’s a lot of things you assume are childish that aren’t. Just tell me the reason.” 

Damian shook his head, “No, I mean the reason is childish. Building gingerbread houses are for children, they are a trivial waste of time and I did not wish to be made fun of for attempting one.” 

He also had not wished for pity over never having made one. It was why he had not told Father or Richard. They would get that sad look in their eyes. Grayson’s was a simple sadness for what Damian had missed. Father’s was-- it was something far more complicated. Damian had not quite figured out what it meant yet, and he was unsure he'd ever fully understand. 

“Why then?” Timothy asked, turning to pour coffee into both mugs. 

Damian was happy he’d turned, it meant his brother would not see his face when he admitted his reasoning, “Jon would not stop talking about how his family made one every year. And, childish or not, it seemed like something that if done correctly, might require actual skill, and--” he stopped not wishing to actually admit he’d simply wanted to _try_. 

“You thought it might be fun?” Timothy moved over to him, and sat on his own stool, sliding a mug to Damian. 

Damian shrugged. 

His brother sipped at his coffee, heedless of how hot it was, and looked over Damian’s partially built creation, “I’ll let you in on a secret.” his eyes didn’t leave the house, “Gingerbread houses aren’t childish at all.” 

“Tt.” 

Now Timothy looked at him, eyes locked onto Damian’s own, “I’m serious. Sure, kids make them, but so does everyone else. It’s not something you age out of. I mean, Bruce and I make them every year."

Damian bit his bottom lip. They’d only just avoided an argument, and he did not wish to start another, especially when Timothy was being so nice. Still, he could not believe that Father would have the patience to do something so trivial with him. He was busy, and Damian was happy enough to spend time with him during their normal outings like patrol. 

"It does not seem like Father would have the patience for them." 

Timothy chuckled, "It's just the kind of thing he loves. It's technical and takes forever if you want to be detailed. Now my dad? He was a guy who wasn't a fan of them. But B? He's reminded me about doing it before." 

There was much that surprised Damian about what Timothy had said, not just in regards to Father, but his own dad. His brother rarely spoke of his parents, at least around Damian. He knew Timothy's parents had not been around often, and that his father had attempted to repair their relationship before he'd died, but Damian knew little else. He did not know the finer details of things, only how deeply his brother regarded Father. 

Damian glanced at the house, "You would not be upset if I asked Father?" 

Spluttering came from beside him, "Why would I be?" 

Damian shrugged and turned to his brother, "You said Father makes one with you yearly, I do not wish to take that from you." 

He had taken enough from his brother already. There was much of Damian's past he regretted, and much he wished he could do over. Richard had explained to him often enough that much of it was not his fault, but how he had treated Timothy? That was entirely Damian's fault. Especially the continued tension between them. He'd allowed that to go on too long, and Damian did not wish to inflate it any more now that they were getting along better. If Father making gingerbread houses with Timothy was an important event, he would not ruin it. 

His brother shifted, settling his cup on the table, "You wouldn't be stealing anything. Bruce would be happy to make one with both of us, together or on our own. I told you, he loves it. I don't know if anyone told you about it or not, but a couple years back we had a competition making them. That's what I thought you were practicing for. Dick's been talking about doing it again now that the whole family's back together." 

"Indeed?" Damian asked, "Then perhaps I will ask him." 

Timothy grinned at him, and picked up a gumdrop to eat, tossing it up and catching it. 

Damian rolled his eyes and sipped at his own coffee, made just the way he liked it, “Just so you know, I do not like it when you are right.” 

This made his brother grin, “It’s kind of my job.” 

“Would you like to help me complete this one?" Damian said, deciding to change the topic, "And tell me more about this competition? What are the parameters for houses, is there a time limit, how many years has Father won, and are team ups allowed?” 

Timothy chuckled, and leaned forward, scooping up a Reese's cup to open and eat, “Yes I will help. None, nope, every year except the time Cass sabotaged him, and one hundred percent yes.” 

Damian grinned, “Then we’d better get to practicing.” 


End file.
